Poem: "Ziggurat (and Helix)"

It was never the fruit that mattered. Sweet fleshof apricot only hid a stonesmelling of bitter almond.We split that fruit without tasting;now bursting seed will divide hardened earth, baked brick;eastward, on the plains of Shinar.

Dry plains in the ancient places rememberfired clay and tar-jointed steps.Our tower is pitched in spiral links; this stairwill ascend right-handed to God’s heaven.Twist life’s coil taut in the hidden place;it will fall back on itself like a serpent, ready to strike.

O Mighty Hunter! We have reached for your shadow:Now translate for us in a tongueno longer ours or your own.Before you fly to Assyria, tell us:Did you touch the sky?